


Talking Turkey

by TwiceBakedPotato



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, May Parker is a Saint, Meeting the Parents, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner, Wade Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2677748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwiceBakedPotato/pseuds/TwiceBakedPotato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade Wilson has never been the "meet the family" type of guy. But if Peter Parker wants him to go to Thanksgiving dinner, then he'll do it. Begrudgingly. But he'll do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking Turkey

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely connected to "It Happened in the Multiverse", mainly because I mention that Wade met May Parker at Thanksgiving the year before.

Wade stood in front of the mirror generally feeling like he was going to his execution rather than a family dinner. Maybe it was the stupid button down shirt or the black dress pants, or maybe just the fact that Peter was insisting on pain of death that he finally meet Aunt May. Considering that he would regenerate from whatever horrors that Peter visited upon his already mangled body--and the repetitive struggle to tie his goddamn tie--Wade was starting to think “pain of death” was an acceptable alternative.

Really, there was nothing he wanted less than to go to May Parker’s house and eat turkey. Not that he was opposed to large, roasted poultry products or was particularly adverse to the idea of pie. It was the idea of May seeing him. Seeing the monster that shared her sweet, perfect nephew’s bed. Seeing that look on her face, the one that everyone gets when they see him without his mask. A look of horror and disgust, followed quickly by averted eyes and forced conversations that usually revolve around objects found on the floor or over his shoulder.

Wade hated that look.

And he really hated the stupid tie. It was black with a pale blue paisley design that perfectly matched the pale blue of his dress shirt. He wasn’t much of a fan of the shirt either. He never liked dressing up for things. It always felt like putting whipped cream on a rotten onion, guaranteed to end in disappointment and tears.

He sighed heavily, leaning his forehead against the mirror and doing his best to get his breathing under control. Part of him wanted to rip the tie off and garrote the nearest person. But that person was Peter, and Peter didn’t deserve that. Peter was sweet and wonderful and perfect and had an amazing ass.

Although, this feeling of frustration and agitation would not exist if not for Peter fixing Wade with his doe-eyed, watery gaze and insisting that Wade go with him to this family dinner. He swore up and down that this would not be a mistake. That Aunt May was a sainted woman who never met a person she did not like.

“She’ll love you,” Peter said, and Wade snorted a derisive laugh and just shook his head. Nobody loves him, not unless he’s had plenty of time to wear them down.

After a few deep breaths, Wade straightened up and gave the tie tying another try. Then he heard a soft knock and Peter opened the door, giving Wade this soft smile that went all the way up to the younger man’s eyes. That smile, it was lethal. It was like emotional napalm that melted Wade all the way to his toes. For the first time since he woke up, Wade managed to crack a half smile.

Peter batted away Wade’s hands and proceeded to tie the tie, his hands manipulating the sleek material with practiced motions that were mesmerizing to the merc. Before he realized he was speaking, Wade said, “You’re so damn good with your hands.”

“Shut up,” Peter said, his smile broadening and a tinge of pink coloring his cheeks. He slid the knot up to Wade’s neck then smoothed the shirt over Wade’s muscular chest. “You look amazing.”

Wade huffed, but Peter put a finger to his lips to silence him. That finger was followed by his lips, and for a moment all of the stress melted away. He relaxed into the kiss, pulling Peter tight against him. They parted for air, and Wade nuzzled into Peter’s unruly hair. He didn’t want to leave the bathroom. Not yet.

Five minutes later, they were in a cab and Wade was starting to wonder if he was going to be sick. His stomach was churning in a way that only meant certain doom for the stupid loafers he was wearing with the stupid socks with that stupid tartan pattern. He’d felt that way since they got in the cab, and the driver had looked at him in the rearview with that goddamn look that made his skin crawl. He wanted to shout that it wasn’t contagious, but that seemed a moot point.

Peter held his hand, rubbing his thumb over the rough skin of Wade’s knuckles. He knew that Wade didn’t want to do this, that he was only doing it because of Peter’s insistence. This was a big step, an important step. Peter hadn’t introduced anyone he dated to Aunt May since he was in highschool, so he was having his own bit of nerves, but for entirely different reasons.

Though Aunt May had insisted that they didn’t have to bring anything, Wade had made a potato salad. He cradled the dish in his lap, eyes staring down at the foil covering the top of the bowl. As they neared the neighborhood, Wade started shaking. Not a small tremble, either. It was full-on body tremors that reminded Peter of a frightened, starving animal that had spent too long getting beaten in the back yard.

When the cab stopped, Wade made no motion to get out of the car. Peter gave his hand a squeeze, and he said, “I got you. It’s okay.”

Wade nodded and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before reaching for the door handle. Everything felt kind of hazy as he stood on the sidewalk staring at the blue door at the end of the walk like he was staring at the Gates of Hell. He imagined that the bushes were demons waiting to skewer and burn him, but he couldn’t stop from moving towards his inevitable demise because of the persistent hand on his arm guiding him along the path. Then there was the sound of funeral bells and…

Peter kissed his cheek, and the hellscape was replaced by a gray house with a blue door. The bell rang again, and a voice beyond the door said, “Come on in!”

The door opened, and Peter was tugging him inside. Wade didn’t want to go in, thought about making a run for it. Even in the damned loafers, he could run fast if properly motivated. And right now, he was plenty motivated to get the hell away before the inevitable bomb dropped and Aunt May realized what kind of freak her sweet, innocent nephew was sleeping with and threw holy water in his face. True, holy water wouldn’t actually do anything, but it was the principle of the matter.

But then there was Peter, all big eyed and telling him everything is okay. Kissing him, taking the potato salad out of his trembling grip before disappearing down the hall into the kitchen. There was a motion for Wade to follow, but he was frozen in place.

There were many things that Wade could be called, but very few would call him a coward. He was quick to fight, didn’t care if he got hacked to pieces. If he could solve a problem by being eviscerated, he would help sharpen the knives. But this… People. New people. People who mattered to people who mattered to him. It was...terrifying. Very, very terrifying. If not for the fact that Wade had avoided liquids all of yesterday, he would have probably pissed his pants by this point.

Then Peter was coming back towards him and he was not alone. And Wade… Wade really wanted to run away. He really, really wanted to will himself to vanish into the aether. He wanted Kurt Wagner to suddenly appear and _BAMF!_ him to somewhere safe where there weren’t little gray haired ladies who looked like Sally Field covered in flour and smiling at him with sparkling eyes.

Really, May Parker was the most frightening thing he’d ever seen.

Wade froze, waiting to see the Look. That horrible, horrible look. But it didn’t happen. She just smiled and extended her hand to him, her sweet voice saying, “You must be Wade. I’ve heard so much about you. Peter talks about you all the time.”

Only part of Wade’s brain was aware that he was in fact shaking this woman’s hand, and he knew that at this point in the conversation he was supposed to say something because she had said something to him, but words were gummy and sticky, and they hid somewhere near the lump that had inexplicably grown in his throat. Thus, all he could manage was, “Uh, hi.”

May’s smile never wavered, and her eyes never got that look. Not even a hint of it. She patted his arm, then said, “Come into the kitchen. Dinner’s still cooking.”

“Okay,” Wade managed to say as she walked away.

Peter smiled at him and put a hand at the small of his back, pushing him towards the hallway leading to the kitchen. It was a very nice kitchen. Small and cozy, and it smelled like the holidays should smell. Spices, seasonings, roasting meat. And cookies. Wade spied the cookies as soon as he came through the door. Little turkeys smeared with orange and yellow icing, all neatly piled on a plate in the middle of the small kitchen table.

It was obvious that the Parker house was a place with a lot of memories. Every wall was covered in pictures with little plaques and tchotchkes indicating that this place had been lived in by real people. It wasn’t impersonal like an apartment or even Wade’s own childhood home where the only decoration was beer bottles and misery. No. This was a place where people loved each other, and that… Wade didn’t know how to handle that. Especially since May was asking him to butter the rolls she just removed from the oven, still smiling at him the way she smiled at Peter. Like he was one of the loved ones, even though she didn’t know him at all.

Wade didn’t know there were people like the Parkers in the world. They were in the realm of fairy tales and things that were impossible or extinct because all the bad things had destroyed them, removed them from this reality. Or they removed themselves, because Peter and May Parker were too good for this shitty world. And Wade felt himself misting up because some old lady asked him to do some menial task, not because she wanted the slave labor, but because she wanted him to be part of the activities.

He cleared his throat, fighting back that damn lump as he smeared butter across the golden tops of the fresh baked rolls. Peter had been assigned the task of mashing the potatoes, something that was apparently his favorite thing to do since he was a little kid. May and Peter talked about school and work, Wade enjoying their easy banter. He started humming along with the music on the radio. It was Patsy Cline, “Walking After Midnight”.

It wasn’t until he heard May say, “My goodness, you have a beautiful voice,” that Wade realized that he was singing along. Peter was smiling, that twinkle in his eyes that always did weird things to Wade’s heart palpitations.

“He sings all the time,” Peter said fondly.

Wade’s face was turning scarlet, and shrugged. “It’s a habit.”

“I’ve always found singing a comfort,” May said. Then she added, “Though, I sound more like a cat with its tail stuck in a door.”

Wade laughed, and he said, “Now, Miss May, I doubt it’s that bad.”

“Oh, it is,” Peter said as May swatted him with a towel.

Slowly, Wade started to relax. Especially when May started talking about pie recipes. Though few knew it, Wade was a helluva chef. Not all of his talent with knives was restricted to stabbing. Maybe 80-percent. 90… Okay, he spent a lot of time stabbing people, but he was still good in the kitchen.

By the time the turkey was out of the oven, he had loosened his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing more of his damaged skin. May didn’t seem to think anything of it. There was no staring or cringing, and she didn’t hesitate to pat his exposed arm when he made her laugh a little too hard when he called Peter “Bambi”.

Wade volunteered to set the table, and as soon as he stepped out, he heard May’s soft voice say, “He is such a darling.” For a moment, Wade couldn’t see what he was doing for the shimmering tears in his eyes. Yup, he wasn’t going to make it through this day without crying, but at least it wasn’t for the reasons he imagined when trying to tie his tie. Crying because you are happy is substantially different from any other crying he had ever done. And yes, Wade Winston Wilson cried. He cried manly tears of man-pain. And apparently, manly tears of man-joy.

Dinner was enjoyable. Heavenly. Never in his life, at least not that Wade could recall, had he ever had a family dinner like this. There were a couple times that he had joined in on the Thanksgiving dinner with Agency X, but that was friends and mostly a reason for everyone to get drunk and be stupid. This was all about just being together, breaking bread, and all that.

And remembering. They talked so much about Ben Parker that it felt like he was in the room with them. It wasn’t the kind of reminiscing that ended with bitter tears and anger. It was fond memories of a man that they both cared deeply for, who was missed and treasured. Wade liked that they talked about him that way. It was completely different from when Wade’s mother died, and his father told him to never speak her name again. He could never talk about her like Peter and May talk about Ben, not without being punched in the face.

Wade was seldom thankful for things. Life had handed him a giant shit-sandwich from the day he was born. But right now, he was thankful that he was part of this dinner. He was thankful for May being the sunshine of summer that she was named for. And he was very thankful for Peter, who had somehow found him worthy to be part of his life.

After the desserts were finished and leftovers packaged up, Wade and Peter stood at the door saying their goodbyes. May hugged Peter tightly and kissed his cheek, making him promise to come by next week for dinner. Then she turned to Wade, who had his hand out to shake hers again.

She batted it away and spread her arms, saying, “Come here, you.”

And that was when Wade stopped being able to hold back the tears. He hugged her tight, and said, “Thanks, Miss May.”

“You’re welcome here any time, Wade,” she said, giving him a final squeeze before they parted.

The ride back to the apartment was silent, but not the tense silence of the morning. It was the comfortable silence that is found with contentment. Once they were home, Wade pulled Peter into a tight hug, whispering softly, “Thank you, Peter.”

Peter kissed Wade’s cheek, and said, “Happy Thanksgiving, Wade.”

 


End file.
